The Mask
by Straya
Summary: Midway through episode 20 of G Gundam, George de Sand pauses to reflect on his haunted past, and makes an attempt to cope with the uncertainty that his encounter with the Devil Gundam has left him with...


The Mask

_(This fic containers spoilers for Mobile Fighter G Gundam. If you have not yet seen up through episode 20 and do not want to be spoiled on incidents happening throughout those first 20, do not read any further. You have been warned!)_

It was perhaps an hour before dawn or so, but not even the warm rays of the sun peeking over the far horizon would be able to chase away the darkness that haunted me. Sitting at the long table inside the main tent of our encampment, I rested my chin in one hand and watched the flames of a nearby candle dance in the slight breeze that wafted in from outside. The lake outside kept the night air cool, but despite the fact that it was not uncomfortable weather, I still felt chilled. 

I had been raised to always put on a pleasant attitude for those around me. From the day I could walk, everything had been about elegance, proper manners and maintaining an air of confidence in everything I did. From the piano lessons to the fencing training, I was brought up to be the pride of one of the wealthiest and well known families of my country. Yet, it had taken only two losses in my career as a fighter to break my spirit and steep my heart in shadows. 

The first came in the finals at the Gundam Fighter trials, facing Jean-Pierre Mirabeau. While he had not triumphed in that battle and I had been chosen by the officials as the representative of Neo-France, the day had ended in tragedy. In an attempt to prevent Mirabeau from using his Gundam Mirage to attack the officials, who he believed had robbed him of his victory due to his dishonorable methods in battle, my Gundam Rose had knocked his suit off balance, causing its missiles to deploy and fly into the watching crowd. One of the torch cauldrons atop a high column had also come tumbling down when struck by a stray missile, spilling its flames into the audience below. Hundreds of innocent people lost their lives that day... They had called it the "Marseilles Disaster." 

Mirabeau was sentenced to life in prison on our colony. I became Neo-France's champion Gundam Fighter. 

As celebrated as I supposedly was, the guilt still hung over me a full year following the accident. Never in my life had I felt as weak and as helpless as I did the moment those missiles were released. My countrymen...my people...were slaughtered by their own, and it was because I had toppled Mirabeau's Gundam. Despite my family's attempt to assure me that I had only taken such an action with purely noble intentions, I spent several weeks after in silent misery. 

I had been so sure that this thirteenth Gundam Fight Tournament would be my chance to redeem myself. While I had smiled to my family and associates, assuring them that everything was for the glory and pride of Neo-France and the de Sand family, I secretly prayed that this tournament would be a chance to wash the blood from my hands. 

Then IT came along.... The devil, itself. 

During the early part of the Tournament, I had a run in with Neo-Japan's Fighter, a headstrong young man about my age named Domon Kasshu. I thought very little of him at the time; he had rudely interrupted my battle with Neo-Cuba's Gundam. Little did I know that Domon was in the Tournament in order to locate his elder brother, Kyoji Kasshu, who had apparently taken a powerful Gundam of their family's creation and come to Earth. I foolishly thought it was no concern of mine, until an invitation to a fight in Shinjuku, Japan, turned out to be a trap set by Kyoji and his Devil Gundam. Granted, I was not the only one to be pulled in by such bait... The fighters from Neo-China, Neo-Russia and Neo-America had also been, as Chibodee might say, "suckered into it." Before any of us knew was had happened, we were seperated from our associates and Gundam teams, and infected with the Devil Gundam's D-G Cells. 

Slaves... We became slaves to that monstrosity. 

Kyoji had also recruited Domon's former mentor, Master Asia, to his side, and he had us set traps for the Neo-Japanese fighter. While all of us were trained combatants, our battles against Domon were far from honorable. It was only by the noble sacrifice of the Shuffle Alliance, the protectors of peace for both Earth and Space, that we were able to escape the Devil Gundam and be free of its curse. Following the Devil Gundam's disappearance from Shinjuku, all of us went our seperate ways, intending to just get on with the Tournament. 

As I considered these things, a moth came fluttering into the tent through the open flap and began to hover around the flame of the candle. I watched it, still and silent for several moments, until the small creature got a little to close to the fire and was set alight. Wings burning up, it fell to the table top in front of me, a small wisp of smoke rising from the body. One hand reaching out, I nudged the still form with the index finger of my free hand, the tip of it becoming soiled by the moth's charred remains. 

How we had all been like that... Like moths to the flame, simply going to Shinjuku as a group of over confident buffoons and then getting burnt by the touch of the Devil Gundam. 

I honestly was not sure how the others were affected, but I went back to the Tournament, doing my best to put on a good act for my country. While guilt and sorrow ravaged my spirit, I had done nothing but mask my emotions with a false smile. But as I entered one match after the next, it became apparent that I had lost my ability to control my emotions. I stopped going for a simple win against my opponents, and instead tried to reduce their Gundams to piles of scrap. After viciously beating their suits to a pulp, I would then attempt to tear them limb from limb, literally, and then pull their heads clean off. 

And what frightened me more than anything was that I knew this kind of pent up rage. This was the same kind of anger and guilt that consumed me at Marseilles, when Mirabeau's Gundam deployed those missiles into the crowd. I honestly believe that the Devil Gundam used that memory to control me. It told me that I was weak because of that incident, and that only it could make me stronger. I fear that I half believed what that machine and its master told me while the D-G cells ate away at my sanity and ability to reason. And, in the aftermath, it seemed I'd lost all of my focus. I couldn't even use my own Gundam with any confidence anymore; I'd become afraid of it. 

Getting up, I left the main tent and made my way down towards the lake shore. Nearby, the smaller tent was still dark. A small, but brief smile graced my features as I thought about my butler Raymond, who was asleep inside. He had spent most of his life serving my family, and had even assisted in raising me from birth. He was a loyal and kind soul, and although I could often by curt with him, I really did appreciate his service to me. A small part of me does wish to think of him more as a friend than as a servant, but that's not proper of a man of my stature, or so I had been taught. 

Then again, neither is cowering in the darkness from you own past. 

I turned my gaze towards the lake and the horizon just beyond it. The sun was just barely beginning to rise, and I again hoped that seeing the light of morning creeping up over the water's surface would help ease my pain, but it did not. Memories of my past and of my nightmares remained. I had relived the Mersailles Disaster so many times, recently, as well as had nightmares about the Devil Gundam, and about it destroying Princess Maria Louise. While my feelings for the princess of Neo-France are mostly rooted in loyalty to my country, seeing her corpse hanging in the hand of the Devil Gundam in my dreams would always cause me to awake in a cold sweat. It is my duty to protect the Princess; to fight for her honor and her safety. 

As the first rays of morning light reached me, I felt a single tear slide down the side of my face. My throat tightened up at the senation, and I quickly brushed the tear aside with one gloved hand, angry that I had let any outward signs of my fear and guilt slip out. But I really wasn't sure how much longer I could hold out.... All of those complications were starting to affect my sleeping and eating habits, as well as my performance in my Gundam... 

"Up already, Master George?" 

I turned at the sound of the cheerful voice to see Raymond behind me. Had he seen me crying? Unthinkable. My mouth went dry at the very idea of it. Nevertheless, I smiled and nodded a bit. 

"Yes, Raymond. Will you please see to making a light breakfast for us?" 

"Certainly, and I trust you'll allow me the honor of some fencing practice later, Master George?" 

"Of course." 

As Raymond turned and made his way up to the main tent, I looked back towards the lake and rising sun. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I again heard the echo of Princess Maria Louise's voice... 

_Can you promise to bring me your triumph...?_

I had promised her that I would, and here I was, helpless as a child and on the verge of tears. How am I to go on? I have become nothing more than a disgrace to my country, my family and even to my own Gundam... 

My name is George de Sand, the sorry inheritor to the Shuffle Alliance legacy of "Jack of Diamonds", the pilot of Neo-France's Gundam Rose, and the prince, not of scarlet roses, but of lies and miseries. 

My facade is slowly giving 'way; my mask slowly coming apart. 

God help me. 

_Author's Note: This is my first G Gundam fan fic, and while I hope to write more in the future, I feel this was at least a decent effort. What few G fics there are out there seem to focus heavily on the Rain/Domon relationship, and since George is my favorite character, I figured I'd do something a little different here. Hope you enjoyed reading it, and feel free to leave feedback. :)_


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